


Falling in Your Eyes

by Mishirure



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Chloe is chilled out, F/M, Friendship/Love, Identity Reveal, Kind of a... little mermaid plot going on here with the voice thing?, Music AU, Romance, Secret Identity, Singer AU, What this is, a complete misunderstanding of the music business, all of my knowledge is from the show Nashville, also kind of a cinderella story?, audiphiles, even though she's a famous actress, famous singer Adrien agreste, i dunno, inspired by songs from 1789: les amants de la Bastille, kind of inspired by that, music industry, no magic, romance through song, sia situation, stage fright, stage name
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishirure/pseuds/Mishirure
Summary: Adrien Agreste is the most popular male music artist in Paris, and quite possibly the world. With his good looks, charming smile, endearing personality and soaring tenor voice, he’s captured the hearts of men and women alike. After writing what he thinks will be an award-winning love song with his best friend and producer Nino, he decides to perform it as a duet with a female artist and decides to try his luck with an old friend.The next morning, Adrien notices a mysterious track that he doesn't remember recording, and the voice that greets his is one that he swears belongs to an angel. No one knows who this person is, but he is determined to find her.





	Falling in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> YES, I KNOW I HAVE A SCI-FI AU TO FINISH, BUT THIS HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD ALL WEEK AND IT WOULDN’T LEAVE ME ALONE.
> 
> THE AU’S ARE STRONG WITH THIS FANDOM.
> 
> I’VE ALSO COME UP WITH ANOTHER ONE YOU MAY SEE SOON WHILE I WAS MEANT TO BE WRITING MIRACULOUS:S0UL.
> 
> MY. SOUL. IS. CONSUMED.
> 
> SAVE ME.

For music sensation Adrien Agreste, making the decision to help an old friend break into the music side of the entertainment industry had been a no-brainer. After all, he owed her big time for essentially catapulting his music career and helping him step out of his father’s shadow, where he did nothing but model for the famed _Gabriel_ fashion house. She had overheard him jamming with his best friend Nino Lahiffe during their college years and had urged him to sign up for an Open Mic on campus; he had initially declined, but after Nino joined “Mission: Get Adrien to Follow His Dreams”, Adrien found himself nervously pacing backstage a week later.

In the few tense minutes before his public singing debut, he had felt like he was going to puke - heart racing, palms sweaty, thankful he opted out of having spaghetti for dinner that night - but by the time he had stepped onto the stage, basking in the familiar glare of stage lights, he had felt a strange calm come over him. His sudden ease allowed him to belt his heart out in a stunning rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”, and from what he’d been told, there hadn’t been a dry eye in the audience by the time he finished the last note. His old friend had recorded the entire performance, put it online (with his permission; really, who would even see it anyway?) and a few months later, he was getting calls from music industry professionals all scrambling, begging him to sign to their labels. He was surprised that his father agreed to it; he could still model for the brand, but Adrien would be able to put his energy into something worthwhile while he was at. Adrien knew that his good name and previous modelling experience had given him a boost in the industry (he had definitely received his fair share of criticism for it) but none of what he was doing now would be possible without the help of one Chloé Bourgeois.

A well-known actress in her own right, Chloé had confided in Adrien that she was growing bored with the usual day-to-day of set life, and decided she wanted to switch things up a little bit by getting into the music scene. Now that they were both in their mid-twenties with established careers under their belts, Adrien had no trouble convincing his manager Nathalie that doing something with Chloé would be good press, and he’d been excited at the prospect of working with his long-time friend. Nino, who had become a highly sought-after music producer, had been a little less enthusiastic about the prospect of working with the girl who made his life a living hell all throughout high school and the beginning of college, but Adrien swore that she had promised to behave, and she did.

As much as Chloé could behave, anyway. There had only been one or two tantrums so far.

Adrien had written the song in question about a month ago, something a little different from his usual style of upbeat pop tunes, occasionally sprinkled with a bit of a rock twist. While he liked the music he was writing, Adrien was starting to feel as if his style was a little too polished, too influenced by his father; he wanted to write something a bit more raw and emotional, with a hint of romantic sadness. Nino had asked if he was still hung up on Lila, the girl he had dated for nearly a year and who had essentially used him for his name. Adrien denied it vehemently, but he couldn’t deny that it was a bit of emotional loneliness that urged him to write this particular piece. And, after seeing Chloé’s spectacular performance in the last romantic comedy she starred in (coincidentally about a famous singer in love with a poor punk guitarist), he had heard her sing and thought she would be the perfect addition to the song.

However, that wasn’t quite the case…

Despite knowing the song inside and out, Chloé kept missing cues in the music, which Adrien had forgiven due to nerves, and there was just something… lacking in her voice that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. It had nothing to do with her talent, which she had ample amounts of (as she was quick to remind people), and more to do with the emotion behind her voice. Perhaps raw emotion in music wasn’t the same as acting on screen, Adrien thought.

After Chloé had fumbled her cue to come in for the sixth time that session, Adrien sighed and signalled to Nino on the other side of the glass to stop the track, removing his studio cans from his head. He stepped away from the mic to look at Chloé, noting that she looked frustrated and was beginning to lose patience. She took off her own headphones, looking at him with a sour face as she crossed her arms over her chest, and he tried to keep his voice as level as possible.

“Chloé, you missed your cue again,” Adrien said.

“Are you sure you just didn’t come in too early?” She snapped. Adrien raised a brow, but was otherwise unfazed by her attitude; that was just quintessential Chloé. He knew that when she was annoyed, she shut down and got huffy. He decided not to address it.

“I’m sure,” he said in an even tone. He moved over to her side to look at her copy of her sheet music. “Do you want to go over it again before we do another take?”

Chloé didn’t say anything and instead gave him a gesture that basically said ‘go ahead’. Adrien picked up the pencil sitting on her music stand and leaned into Chloé’s mic.

“Hey, Nino, we’re going to take a ten-minute break to go over this again,” he said, meeting his friend’s eyes in the room beyond the window. Nino responded with a thumb’s up and Adrien turned back to the music, ushering Chloé over so she could see what he was doing. “The break after the first verse is eight beats; you come in just before the ninth beat…”

 

* * *

 

 Nino sighed in his chair as Adrien leaned in to have a conversation with Chloé and peeled his own cans from his head, pushing his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes. It had been a long day, and he knew it wasn’t going to end until Adrien got the take he was looking for. For a guy who wanted to distance himself as much as possible from his father, Adrien certainly had Gabriel’s perfectionist streak when it came to his work ethic. It wasn’t even Adrien’s takes that were bad; as usual, they were flawless. The issue was Chloé and she knew it, which was beginning to grate on her nerves and causing her to take her frustration out on all of them. They were nearing the end of their session before Chloé was due to go to a press junket for her latest film, and they had yet to get a full take of the song.

“Rough day at work, champ?” A voice said behind him, and he groaned at the beautiful sight that greeted him when he turned.

Alya Césaire stood in the doorway of the studio with a large coffee in each hand, her phone shoved under her arm. The only thing good about hanging out with Callous Chloé was being able to see his girlfriend, who also happened to be the aforementioned menace’s publicist, who had just returned from a lengthy meeting with her agent and the press team in charge of the press junket Chloé was doing to later. He eagerly took the coffee from her hands, pulling her down for a grateful kiss before taking a sip.

“I will never again complain about how much of a perfectionist Adrien is when he’s singing solo,” Nino said, turning back to watch as Adrien patiently walked through the music for the umpteenth time with Chloé, the conversation silenced by the glass that separated them. “He practices so much outside of the studio that by the time we actually get in here, we usually have it all in a few takes; this starting and stopping business is really getting on my nerves.”

“Welcome to my life,” Alya sing-singed, pulling out her phone to check their schedule. “Though the more she messes up, the more time we have to spend together.”

“That is true,” Nino said, absently wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down into his lap. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “How long has it been since we were able to... y’know, _actually_ date?”

“A few weeks?” Alya mused as she absently typed something on her phone. “Thank god that your best friend and my hot mess are friends, otherwise we may never have a chance to spend time together.”

“And you don’t exactly get a lot of downtime,” Nino grumbled, shooting the blonde girl on the other side of the glass a dark look. “How _do_ you manage to keep the reputation of Wild Child Chloé Bourgeois so squeaky clean, anyway?”

“A lot of sleepless nights,” Alya laughed hollowly. “And knowing all the names of the paparazzi who are adamant on taking photos of her when she goes dancing; I have enough dirt on a few to threaten blackmail, which keeps them all in check.”

“Savage,” Nino chuckled.

“Hey, I wouldn’t be doing my job otherwise,” she said, kissing him as her phone began to ring. “Hang on, babe, that’ll be the _best_ stylist in Paris.” she got up off his lap, ignoring his whine of protest. “This is Alya!”

Nino tuned her out, turning once again to Adrien and Chloé in the booth. Adrien was stepping behind his own music stand again as she said something to him, and he replied back to her before meeting Nino’s eye on the other side of the glass and nodding to him. Nino flipped the speakers in the production room on, not wanting to wear his headphones anymore, and pressed the button next to the mic on his own end.

“Finally finished teaching her the song again?” Nino asked flatly.

“Bite me, Nino,” Chloé snapped, shooting him a glare through the glass as she pulled her studio cans up from around her neck.

“We’re good, Nino,” Adrien said calmly, adjusting his own cans around his ears and shooting Chloé an encouraging smile. “Want to start the track from the top?”

“You got it,” Nino said, and he pressed a few buttons on the soundboard. “Ready to go in three... two…”

He pressed play on the backtrack, and Adrien came in on his cue perfectly, his velvety voice filling the room with a quiet, emotional tune. As Adrien sang, Nino heard the door open quietly and Alya, who had already finished her phone call, quickly ushered the visitor into the room before quietly closing the door behind her. Nino recognized the visitor as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Alya’s best friend from college and the women in charge of Chloé’s wardrobe; a job he imagined was quite the feat. Nino didn’t know her personally, but he heard enough from Alya to get a good read on her and she sounded like good people. Marinette carefully draped a garment bag over the arm of the plush white couch before coming up to stand next to Alya behind Nino’s chair, crossing her arms as she observed the singers just as Chloé came in, finally nailing her cue.

“How’s she doing?” Marinette asked Alya in a hushed tone.

“You don’t have to whisper, they can’t hear us,” Nino said, shooting her a friendly grin.

“Oh,” she said, cheeks turning a little pink. “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it; you aren’t the first and won’t be the last,” He laughed and reached out a hand towards her. “Nino Lahiffe.”

“Ah, you’re the Nino I’ve heard so much about,” she said with a bright smile, shaking his hand. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“The stylist,” Nino said, glancing at Alya for confirmation.

“You DO listen!” Alya swooned, kissing Nino’s cheek. “Although I think my exact words were ‘the best stylist in Paris’. Nay... the world.”

“Okay, _Mom_ , calm down,” Marinette laughed, giving Alya a gentle shove. She then nodded back towards the recording booth. “She sounds like she’s doing well.”

“Hmm,” Nino gave a noncommittal hum, a frown marring his features as he turned back in his chair to watch. “At least she came in on cue this time.”

“We’ve been starting and stopping a lot,” Alya explained to Marinette with a sigh. She then glanced down at her phone to check her schedule. “We’ve got an hour to get her set to go.”

“We can do it here,” Marinette said, not seeming bothered by the time crunch. “I have my kit in the car, it’ll take me twenty minutes to get her out the door.”

“Have I told you how much I love you for being so good at your job?” Alya said, stroking Marinette’s cheek fondly.

“Should I be jealous?” Nino said as the duet came to a close over the speakers.

“I promise, I have no intention of stealing your girl,” Marinette promised with a chuckle.

“Hey Nino, can we do one more before we wrap up for the night?” Adrien asked, his voice echoing over the speakers. Behind his chair, Nino thought he heard Marinette gave a tiny ‘eep’ before Alya muttered something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like, “Be cool.” He decided to ignore them.

Nino pressed the button on his mic. “Sure thing; from the top?”

“Yeah, please,” Adrien said. Nino saw him shoot Chloé a thumbs up. “You did great Chlo; let’s make this one count, okay?”

“Anything for you, _Adri-chou_ ,” Chloé cooed, her mood immediately better after the good take. Well, at least they would end this nightmare session on a high note.

“Okay,” Nino said his finger poised on the button. “From the top in three... two...”

He hit play and shut off his mic as the first beat started up, and Adrien launched into his part with ease, voice as smooth and clear as ever. The three bodies in the production studio stood in silence and they watched the pair in the booth do their take. Chloé seemed to finally relax after knowing she could do it in one go, or maybe it was something Adrien said to her; Nino didn’t know how, but the golden boy was able to talk her down out of almost any bad mood she was in. Chalk it up to being friends since they were basically five, he supposed. He listened intently to the take, nodding in moments that he thought her particularly powerful, but still feeling like there was something missing... he’d have to listen to the take afterwards with Adrien.

The final note rang out, and Nino stopped the backing track after letting the silence ring out for a moment, leaning into his mic. “Nice take, you guys! Why don’t we pack it in and call it a night?”

“Can we do one more?” Adrien was asking, and Nino could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Chloé may have known him for longer, but Nino had worked with him for so long that he could read Adrien’s tells like an open book. “I feel like I could make it better…”

“Don’t sweat it, man,” Nino said. “We got some good stuff; while Chloé gets ready for her thing, we’ll go over the tracks and see what we need to fix.”

Adrien sighed but nodded, pulling his headphones from around his ears and made his way back to the control room, Chloé following after him like a puppy. When he entered the room, Adrien was surprised to see that there was a dark haired girl that he didn’t recognize. She was clearly part of Chloé’s team, as evident by the fact that the blonde immediately went to her, accepting an iced coffee from the girl’s outstretched hand and allowing herself to be ushered out of the room to get ready for her press junket. He thought he knew everyone from Chloé’s team, but this girl was clearly new. After they left, Adrien pointed after them, glancing between Nino and Alya.

“Who’s she?” He asked curiously.

“The _best_ stylist in Paris,” Nino smirked, glancing at Alya. “No, wait, there was more... what did you say? ‘Nay... the world’?”

“It’s so hot when you listen to me,” Alya said, stroking her boyfriend’s face before turning back to Adrien. “‘ _She_ ’ is Marinette; She just moved back to Paris from New York.”

“What happened to Christelle?” Adrien asked.

“Well, after I found out she was tipping off the paparazzi whenever Chloé went out, I fired her and had her blacklisted from working as a stylist.” Alya said idly.

“In all of Paris?” Adrien frowned. That seemed a little harsh…

“ _Ha_!” Alya snorted. “Don’t assume I do _anything_ on so small a scale.”

“You’re joking,” Adrien said, narrowing his eyes. He glanced at Nino. “She’s joking, right?”

“Don’t ask questions you can’t handle the answer to,” Nino warmed sagely. “Just be eternally grateful we’re on her good side.”

“Damn straight,” Alya chirped. “Now are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say hi to me?”

Adrien chuckled in spite of himself as he and Alya met halfway, stooping down and affectionately kissing her on both cheeks. “Hey, Al.”

“Long time no see, _Adri-chou_ ,” Alya said with a sly grin, returning his gesture.

“Okay, none of that,” Adrien chucked as pulled back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have the heart to tell Chloé how much I hate that nickname.”

“Fine, then I call dibs on calling you Adrikins,” Alya winked playfully as Adrien groaned. “Nice pipes, as usual.”

“Thanks,” Adrien said, scratching the back of his head. He turned to Nino, who was sitting with his hands steepled in front of his face. “So... how did it sound?”

“Well, it didn’t suck,” Nino said matter-of-factly, causing Alya to snort from the place she’d taken up on the white couch.

“C’mon, she’s not _bad_ ,” Adrien said meekly, glancing at Alya.

“You don’t have to defend Chloé to me,” Alya said, raising her hands before going back to her phone. “I’ve spent years with that girl; I know what she’s capable of.”

“I mean her _voice_ ,” Adrien clarified. “I know only too well what she gets up to on her downtime.”

“She’s not exactly _good_ , either, and I mean that both ways,” Nino said. “No offence, Alya.”

Alya shrugged. “It’s not my talent you’re insulting.”

“Don’t be mean, Nino. I think she’s really talented, all things considered,” Adrien said, plopping himself into the office chair that sat next to Nino. “I love Chloé; I’ve known her a long time, and I think she has some real skill and could easily break into music. But...”

“Something’s missing?” Nino said, turning back to the soundboard and messing with some switches.

“Oh, good,” Adrien said, almost sounding relieved. “I thought I was being too particular... Can we play that last take back again? I think it was the best one.”

Nino complied, resetting the last recorded track and hitting play, allowing it play through the speakers of the room. Adrien listened carefully and Nino watched as his expression went from one of deep contemplation to one if mild disappointment, the only tell was the way the corners of his mouth pinched downwards. Nino stopped the song halfway through, cutting the sound abruptly.

“What are you thinking?” Nino asked.

“It’s not that she’s... _not good,_ ” Adrien said slowly, clearly being careful about his choice of words. “But maybe just... not good for _this_ song? Our voices don’t really blend…”

“She’s a bit pitchy in parts,” Nino said. “I mean, I can go back and autotune that…”

“I’d rather not,” Adrien grimaced. “And I know the pitchiness is just nerves; she’ll get over that. It’s the _emotion_ that isn’t connecting the way I want it to.”

“You know, you don’t _have_ to sing with her,” Nino said. “We could always find someone else.”

“Yeah, but I promised,” Adrien said lamely.

“You promised to help her break into the music industry,” Alya said from her spot on the couch, endlessly tapping away on her phone before looking up at them. “It doesn’t have to be with a duet; I’m sure that creative brain of yours could come up with a solo piece that’s the perfect fit for Chloé. You’re the one who knows her the best; honestly, it may even be the best breakout song ever.”

“Yeah, maybe...” Adrien mused before he ran his hand through his golden hair. “I think I’ve been thinking about this for too long; I need to sleep on it and come back with a fresh mind.”

“... want to talk about it over a beer?” Nino asked hopefully.

Adrien paused for a moment, contemplating his offer before he started to push himself to his feet. “Yeah, let’s grab a beer. We’ll wait for Chloé and then head out.”

“You don’t mind, do you, babe?” Nino asked Alya.

“I’m on call until whenever this press junket is done,” Alya said, still typing away on her phone. “So you go ahead.”

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Nino swooned.

Adrien made a mock retching noise as he started making his way towards the door, and Nino shoved him playfully.

“Hey, man, c’mon,” he scolded as Adrien laughed.

“You guys are gross,” Adrien said airily as he pulled open the door and nearly collided with the small dark-haired girl that Alya had said was named Marinette. She squeaked loudly in surprise, stumbling, and Adrien reached out to grab her before she had a chance to fall backwards. “Whoa! Sorry about that. You okay? Nothing broken?”

“Um, yeah,” Marinette said, her cheeks flushing as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I no, mean! Er... I-I mean no! No, nothing broken...”

Adrien quirked a brow at her stammering, curious as to why she seemed so nervous, but couldn’t help the smile that started to form on his face as she chuckled awkwardly. He finally managed to get a good look at her; dark shoulder length hair, big blue eyes, a light dusting of cute freckles across her nose and cheeks. She was very pretty, he thought. He released her shoulders and offered her his hand.

“I’m Adrien.”

“I know,” she said almost dreamily as she tentatively shook his hand. She suddenly looked horrified for a split second before shaking her head. “I-I mean... uh... nice to meet you, Adrien!”

“You’re Marinette, right?” He asked.

“You know me?” She asked in awe.

“Alya mentioned you were Chloé’s stylist,” Adrien said. He gave her a wink. “You seem like a nice girl; don’t let Chloé push you around too much, okay?”

“O-of course not,” she managed.

“Marinette,” Chloé called, stepping out from around a corner. “I need you to help me with this necklace.”

“Coming,” Marinette said, offering Adrien one last glance. Before going to Chloé, she offered him a small smile and said, “Thanks for catching me.”

“Anytime,” Adrien smiled back, stuffing his hands in his pockets before he turned to Nino. “Set to go?”

“Just gotta lock up,” he said, nodding back to the recording room.

“I got it,” Alya said, snatching his keys. “The limo will be a few minutes for Chloé, anyway, you guys go ahead.”

“You sure?” Nino asked.

“I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t sure,” Alya said, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him in for a teasing kiss before shoving him back. “Get out of here.”

“Oh my _god_ , can you guys be any grosser?” Marinette bemoaned as she helped Chloé adjust her jacket.

“Get used to it,” Chloé sighed, flipping her hair. “They’re positively _revolting_.”

“Tell me about it,” Adrien agreed with a teasing grin at Nino as he approached Chloé. He leaned down to kiss her on both cheeks. “Good work today, Chlo; we’ll meet up again tomorrow?”

“Naturally,” Chloé said with a flirty wink. 

“Bye, Ladies,” Nino said. He kissed Alya once more and said in a low voice, “I’ll see YOU later.”

“It was nice to meet you, Marinette,” Adrien said with a kind smile to the dark haired girl who had allowed herself to step off to the side.

“Oh,” she said. “Um... yeah, you too!”

“Bye, Adrikins!” Alya chimed with a smirk.

“Bye, Al,” he answered with a roll of his eyes, but he was smiling as he left the studio with Nino hot on his heels.

The two men chatted amicably as they found themselves at a bar, discussing the music and what they could do as an alternative for Chloé if the duet didn’t work, nursing their beers all the while. Eventually, they turned in, Nino eagerly making his way home after getting what Adrien could only assume was a racy text from Alya, and Adrien wished him ‘good luck’ before heading home to his own apartment, taking care to feed his cat, Plagg, before turning in for the night.

 

* * *

 

 The next morning, with a new focus and a mind ready to work, Adrien made his way into the studio bright and early, wanting to listen to the takes he’d done with Chloé the night before to see if it could be salvaged at all. However, when he got there, he realized there was an extra track recorded, one he didn’t remember doing. Curiosity getting the better of him, he switched it on and was immediately met with his own voice filling the speakers of the studio, the familiar tune he’d been singing yesterday reaching his ears. However, it was the woman’s voice that joined his that took his breath away.

This voice was light and airy, with a naturalness to it that couldn’t be taught. It was pure and soft and even joined in on some harmonies that Adrien hadn’t even thought of. The voice conveyed all the emotion he wanted to pour into the song about a lost, tragic love. He sat there, completely speechless as the song ended and then proceeded to listen to it again, fast forwarding through his solo part at the beginning to get to the part where this woman’s voice joined his. He even turned his voice track down so he could listen to her more.

Whoever this voice belonged to, Adrien swore he had fallen in love with her.

By the time Nino stepped in the door, Adrien had listened to the track about 10 times, and he didn’t say anything as Nino greeted him. He sat him down without a word and just played him the song, not offering any kind of explanation. His friend’s face started out confused as Adrien’s singing voice played from the speakers, but then his eyes gradually widened as the woman’s voice joined him. By the time the last note rang out, Nino was also speechless.

“Who is _THAT_?” Nino finally managed.

“I don’t know. I found it when I came in earlier.” Adrien looked positively haunted, like he’d had a very sudden and intense epiphany. He felt like his whole world was suddenly rocked and he was having a hard time figuring out which way was up.

“I... damn,” Nino said lamely, slumping back into his seat. “That’s... she’s... _wow._ ”

“I know,” Adrien said.

“Her voice is... _perfect_ ,” Nino continued.

“Completely.”

“You guys blend together seamlessly!”

“I’ve _never_ sounded this good with someone, _ever_ ,” Adrien said. “And I’ve sung a _lot_ of duets.”

“... Where did this girl come from?” Nino finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Adrien said. His expression suddenly turned intense, like he just got an intense spark of determination. “But I’m going to find her.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired this little thing is called "Tomber dans ces yeux" ("Falling in Your Eyes"... hence the title) and is from a French musical called "1789: Les amants de la Bastille". Listen to it, it's really good!
> 
> Below are the lyrics, and I translated them to kind of make them sound normal in English, too.
> 
> If you enjoy, consider buying me a kofi? http://ko-fi.com/nerdasmic
> 
> Tomber dans ces yeux  
> (Falling in your Eyes)
> 
> Je sais bien que tout nous sépare  
> (I know it all tears us apart)  
> Je sais qu'il faudrait s’enfuir  
> (I know we should run away)  
> Mais je n'irai plus nul part  
> (But I can’t go anywhere)  
> Sans vouloir lui revenir  
> (Not without going back)  
> Sans vouloir nous retenir  
> (Not without holding us back)
> 
> Mais d'où vient le feu qui s’empare  
> (But where does this fire burn from?)  
> De mon âme, ma moitié ivre  
> (From my soul, my drunken mind?)  
> Soudain pour un simple regard  
> (Suddenly, for one simple look)  
> Je veux vivre au bord du vide  
> (I would live on the edge of the void)  
> Je veux vivre au bord du vide  
> (I would love on the edge of the void)
> 
> Pour tomber dans ses yeux, tomber  
> (I’m falling in your eyes, falling)  
> m'abandonner au désir  
> (Abandon myself to this)  
> Qui s’embrase  
> (Burning desire)  
> Danser, dans ses yeux  
> (Dancing, in your eyes)  
> Danser  
> (Dancing)  
> Je veux tanguer aux accents de l’extase  
> (I want to sway with this ecstatic fire)
> 
> Avant que la vie nous sépare  
> (Before life tears us apart)  
> Avant que la vie vacille  
> (Before life falters and fades)  
> Je veux succomber sans égard  
> (I want to succumb without thought)  
> Et valser au bord du vide  
> (And to waltz on the edge of the void)  
> Et valser au bord du vide  
> (And to waltz on the edge of the void)
> 
> Pour tomber dans ses yeux, tomber  
> (I’m falling in your eyes, falling)  
> m'abandonner au désir  
> (Abandon myself to this)  
> Qui s’embrase  
> (Burning desire)  
> Danser, dans ses yeux  
> (Dancing, in your eyes)  
> Danser  
> (Dancing)  
> Je veux tanguer aux accents de l’extase  
> (I want to sway with this ecstatic fire)
> 
> Pour tomber dans ses yeux, tomber  
> (I’m falling in your eyes, falling)  
> m'abandonner au désir  
> (Abandon myself to this)  
> Qui s’embrase  
> (Burning desire)  
> Danser, dans ses yeux  
> (Dancing, in your eyes)  
> Danser  
> (Dancing)  
> Je veux tanguer aux accents de l’extase  
> (I want to sway with this ecstatic fire)
> 
>  Tomber de ses yeux  
> (Falling from your eyes)  
> Tomber comme une larme  
> (Falling, like a tear)  
> A la fin de l’histoire.  
> (At the end of a tale.)


End file.
